Excerpt from Songs and Sonnets, and Other Poems
Songs And Hymns.
The Old Violin.
Though tuneless, stringless, it lies
there in dust,
Like some great thought on a forgotten
page;
The soul of music cannot fade or rust -
The voice within it stronger grows with
age;
Its strings and bow are only trifling things -
A master-touch! - its sweet soul wakes and
sings.
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